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CCEtRIGHT DEPOSm 




e^ JHetrtcal w 
Cranslations 

and poem0 



By 

Frederic H. Hedge 

and 

Annis Lee Wister 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

Houghton, Mifflin and Company 




METRICAL TRANSLATIONS 

AND POEMS 



BY 



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FREDERIC H. HEDGE 






ANNIS LEE WISTER 



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BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

iS88 



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Copyright, 1888, 
By Frederic H. Hedge and Annis Lee Wister. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge : 
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 



CONTENTS 



By FREDERIC H. HEDGE 

Translations. page 

Song of the Angels i 

The Sunset 3 

F'aust's Curse 4 

The Answer of the Spirits to Faust's Curse . . 5 

The Easter Song 6 

Song of the Earth Spirit 8 

Prometheus 9 

Ganymede 11 

My Goddess 13 

Mahomet's Song 16 

Primeval Words 19 

Coptic Song 21 

Harz Journey in Winter 22 

Uncle Kronos 26 

The King in Thule 28 

The Fisher 29 

Mignon's Song 31 

To the Moon 32 

Spirit Greeting 34 

The Singer 34 

The Knight Toggenburg 36 

The Pilgrim 40 



iv Contents? 



Longing 42 

The Castle by the Sea 43 

The Dream 45 

From Heine 46 

From La Motte Foiique 47 

Liitzow's Wild Chase 48 

Luther's Hymn 50 

Original Poems. 

The Class of " Twentj'-five " on their Fortieth 

Anniversary 52 

The Class of 1825 on their Fiftieth Anniversary . 54 

Florence in November 56 

The Idealist 57 

The Northern Lights and the Stars 59 

Passion Hymn 61 

Sursum Corda 62 

E Profundis 63 

The Morning Star 64 

Christmas Hymn 66 



By ANNIS lee WISTER. 

Translations. 

Soothing Days 71 

The Goldsmith's Daughter 72 

May-Dew 75 

Departure 'j'j 

Autumn Colors 78 

A Song of Spring 79 

Song 82 

Phantoms 83 

A Winter Night 85 



Contents; 



Autumn 86 

Autumn 87 

The Postilion 88 

Antique Art 91 

Day-Dawn 91 

The Giant's Plaything 92 

Spring and Autumn 96 

The Three Suns 9? 

Morning in Spring 99 

Two Coffins 100 

Spring loi 

The Bridal Night 103 

April, 1844 104 

To the Moon 107 

Remorse 109 

Autumn Thoughts no 

Morning m 

Visions 113 

A Song of Winter 114 

Mysterious Hours 114 

Spring Yearnings 115 

Westward ti6 

Beauty 118 

Before Sunrise 119 

Evening by the Sea 120 

The Imprisoned Admiral 120 

The Sunlight's Golden Glow 123 

Summer Night 124 

Opening Spring 126 



By FREDERIC H. HEDGE 



TRANSLATIONS 
By FREDERIC H. HEDGE 




SONG OF THE ANGELS 

From Faust. 

RAPHAEL. 

HE sun with brother orbs is sound- 
ing 
Still, as of old, his rival song, 
As on his destined journey bound- 
ing 
With thunder-step he sweeps along. 
The sight gives angels strength, though 
greater 
Than angels' utmost thought sublime ; 
And all Thy lofty works, Creator, 
Are grand as in creation's prime ! 

GABRIEL. 

And fleetly, thought-surpassing, fleetly 
The earth's green pomp is spinning round, 

And paradise alternates sweetly 
With night terrific and profound. 



Cranslatioufi 



There foams the sea, its broad wave beating 
Against the steep cHff' s rocky base, 

And rock and sea away are fleeting 
In never-ending spheral chase. 

MICHAEL. 

And storms with rival fury heaving 

From land to sea, from sea to land, 
Still as they rave a chain are weaving 

Of linked efficacy grand. 
There burning desolation blazes, 

Precursor of the thunder's way ; 
But, Lord, Thy servants own with praises 

The gentle movement of Thy day. 

ALL THREE. 

The sight gives angels strength, though 
greater 

Than angels' utmost thought sublime ; 
And all Thy lofty works, Creator, 

Are grand as in creation's prime. 



H 



2Dranflflationfl? 




THE SUNSET 
From Faust. 

sinks, he vanishes, the day is 
done. 
Yonder he speeds, and sheds new 
life forever. 
Oh, had I wings to rise and follow on 
Still after him with fond endeavor ! 
Then should I see beneath my feet 

The hushed world's everlasting vesper, 
Each summit tipped with fire, each valley's 
silence sweet, 
The silver brook, the river's molten jas- 
per; 
And naught should stay my God-competing 
flight, 
Though savage mountain 5; now with all 

their ravines, 
And now the ocean with its tempered 
havens, 
Successive greet the astonished sight. 

The God at length appears as he were sink- 
ing, 
But still the impulse is renewed ; 

I hasten on, the light eternal drinking, 
The day pursuing, by the night pursued ; 



2Dranslatton0 



Above the sky, beneath the ocean spread. 

A glorious dream ! Meanwhile the sun has 
sped. 
In vain the spirit plies her active wings 
While still to earth the earth - born body 




clings. 



FAUST'S CURSE 

HOUGH the torn heart a moment's 
healing 
Imbibed from that familiar strain, 
And what remained of childish feel- 
ing 
Echoed the dear old time again ; 
Yet cursed be henceforth all that borrows 

A magic lure to charm the breast. 
That — prisoned in this cave of sorrows — 

Would dazzle us or lull to rest. 
Cursed before all the high opinion 

With which the mind itself deludes ; 
Cursed be Appearance whose dominion 

Its shows on human sense intrudes ; 
Cursed all that to Ambition caters 

With honor and a deathless name ; 
Cursed all that as Possession flatters, 
As wife and child, and goods, and game. 



danolatioufl; 



Cursed when with hope of golden treasure 

He spurs our spirits to the fight, 
And cursed be Mammon when for pleasure 

He lays the templing pillow right. 
Cursed be the grape's balsamic potion, 

And cursed be Love's delicious thrall, 
And cursed be Hope, and Faith's devotion, 

And cursed be Patience more than all I 



THE ANSWER OF THE SPIRITS TO FAUST'S 
CURSE 

30 ! Wo ! 
Destroyed it thou hast, 
The beautiful world 
" With the blow of thy fist 
To ruin hast hurled. 
This hath a demigod shattered. 
The fragments to nothing we've scattered. 

Sadly we the lost surrender. 
Fairer now, 

Earth's son in splendor 
Rarer, now, 
Oh, re-create it ! 

In thine own bosom build it again I 
New life beginning. 




%mmlution& 



Thought clearer winning ; 
Then celebrate it 
Songs with new cheer ! 



THE EASTER SONG 

From Faust. 
CHORUS OF ANGELS. 

HRIST has arisen ! 
Joy ye dispirited 
Mortals whom merited 
Trailing inherited 
Woes did imprison ! 

CHORUS OF WOMEN. 

Costly devices 

We had prepared, 
Shroud and sweet spices, 

Linen and nard. 
Wo ! the disaster ! 

Whom we here laid, 
Gone is the Master, 

Empty his bed ! 




CranMationsf 



CHORUS OF ANGELS. 

Christ has arisen ! 
Loving and glorious, 
Out of laborious 
Conflict victorious. 
Hail to the Risen ! 

CHORUS OF DISCIPLES. 

Hath the inhumated, 

Upward aspiring, 
Hath he consummated 

All his desiring? 
Is he in growing bliss 

Near the creative joy ? 
Wearily we in this 

Earthly house sigh. 
Empty and hollow, us 

Left he unblest ? 
Master, thy followers 

Envy thy rest. 

CHORUS OF ANGELS. 

Christ hath arisen 
Out of Corruption's womb 

Burst every prison ! 
Vanish death's gloom I 



%xnm\ntiom 



Active in charity, 
Praise him in verity ! 
His feast prepare it ye ! 
His message bear it ye ! 
His joy declare it ye ! 

Then is the Master near, 

Then is he here. 



SONG OF THE EARTH SPIRIT 

From Faust. 




N floods of hfe, in action's storm, 

Above, beneath, 
To and fro I am weaving 
Novi^ birth, now death, 
A deep ever heaving, 
With change still flowing, 
With life all glowing, 
The roaring loom of time I ply, 
And weave the live garment of Deity. 



2Eran0lation0 




PROMETHEUS 

]Y ! veil thy heavens, Zeus ! 
With clouds and mist, 
And exercise, 
As boys lop thistle-heads, 
Thy strength on oaks and mountain-tops ! 

My earth here below 

Thou must still let stand, 

And my hut which thou buildedst not, 

And here my hearth 

Whose glow thou enviest. 

Nothing poorer I know 

Beneath the sun than you Gods ! 

Your majesty 

Ye nourish sparely 

With sacrifice, 

And breath of prayer, 

And soon would starve 

Were not children and beggars 



pools of hope. 

When a child, unknowing 
Which way to turn, 
I raised to the sun 



lo 2Dran0lation0 

My wandering eye 
As if there above 
Were an ear to listen 
To my complaint, 
A heart like mine 
To pity the oppressed. 

Who helped me repel 

The Titans' insolence ? 

Who rescued me from death ? 

Who from bondage redeemed me ? 

Hast thou not done it 

Thyself, my heart ? 

Heart of mine holy-glowing, 

Glow'dst young and good, — betrayed. 

Shall I render thanks 

To the sleeper on high ? 

I honor thee ? For what ? 

Hast thou assuaged ever 

The pangs of the burdened ? 

Hast thou ever dried 

The tears of distress ? 

Who moulded me to manhood ? 

Omnipotent Time, 

Eternal Fate, — 

My lords and thine. 



2Cran0lation0 



Didst fancy forsooth 
That I would hate Hfe, 
Would flee to the desert, 
Because not all my 
Dream-blossoms ripened ? 

Here I plant me, 
Form men in my image, 
A race, my equals. 
To suffer, to weep, 
To enjoy and be glad, 
And thee not to heed. 
Like me. 

Goethe 

GANYMEDE 

OW in morning splendor 
Thou round me glowest. 
Spring beloved ! 
How through my heart thrills 

The holy joy 

Of thy warmth eternal. 

Infinite Beauty ! 

Oh, might I clasp thee 

Within these arms. 




12 Iranglations; 

Lo ! on thy breast here 

Prone I languish. 

And thy flowers and thy grass 

Press themselves on my heart. 

Thou coolest the torturing 

Thirst of my bosom, 

Love-breathing morning-wind. 

Warbles the nightingale ; 

Wooing she calls from the misty vale. 

I come ! I come ! 

Whither ? Ah ! whither ? 

Up, upward it draws me. 

The clouds are floating 

Downward, the clouds stoop, 

Bend to love's yearning. 

Here ! Here ! 

In your embraces 

Upward ! 

Embracing, embraced, up ! 

Up to thy bosom, 

All-loving Father, 

Goethe 



%xm&htiom 



13 




MY GODDESS 

O which of the Immortals 
Is the highest prize due? 
I quarrel with no one, 
But I assign it 

To the ever-active, 

Ever novel, 

Jove's wondrous daughter, 

His pet child, 

Fantasy. 

For to her he conceded 
The humors all, 
Which else he reserves 
For himself alone, 
And has his pleasure 
In the darling. 



Rose-wreathed now. 

With lily-stalk 

She may tread the flower-valleys, 

Command summer-birds, 

And with bee-hps 

Suck from blossoms 

Light, nourishing dew. 



14 aCranglatione; 

Now again 

With streaming hair 

And eye of gloom 

She may rave with the wind 

Round walls of rock, 

And thousand-colored 

Like morning and evening, 

And ever changing, 

Like moon-glimpses. 

Appear to mortals. 

Let each and all 
The Father praise. 
The old, the high, 
Who with mortal man 
Vouchsafed to couple 
This beautiful 
Unfading spouse. 

For to us hath he joined her, 

To us alone, 

With heavenly bonds. 

And bound it upon her 

In joy and sorrow 

To swerve from us never, 

A partner true. 



2Dran0lacion0 15 

Ever the other 
Indigent tribes 
Of the child-abounding, 
Life-breathing earth 
Wander and pasture 
In dim fruition, 
And heavy dull pains 
Of their momentary 
Bounded existence, 
Bowed by Necessity's 
Pitiless yoke. 

But to us he hath given, 
Oh, joy ! his aptest 
Delicate daughter; 
Entreat her kindly 
As one beloved, 
And grant her the honors 
Of the lady of the house. 
And let not the aged 
Stepmother, Wisdom, 
Affront the dear soul 
With frowns reproving. 

Yet know I her sister, 
The elder, the graver, 
My quiet friend. 
With the light of life only 




i6 %tm&htion& 

May she depart from me, 
The noble inciter, 
Comforter — Hope ! 

Goethe 

MAHOMET'S SONG 

EE the rock-born spring ! 
A joy-bright thing, 
Like a starry eye ; 
High o'er clouds 
Friendly spirits 

Nursed his childhood 
In the bush amid the cliffs. 

Youthful, fresh 
From the clouds he dances down, 
Down upon the marble rocks, 
And shouts back again 

Toward heaven. 

Through mountain passes 
He chases the gay pebbles 
And, with early leader-step 
Marching, sweeps along with him 
His brother fountains. 



%mm\ntiom 17 



In the valley down below 
Flowers spring beneath his step ; 
The meadow lives 
By his breath. 

But no valley's shade detains him, 
And no flowers 
That cling about his knees 
And flatter him with eyes of love. 
Tow'rd the plain his course he steers 
Serpentining. 

Brooklets nestle 

Fondly to his side ; he enters 

Now the plain in silvery splendor 

And the plain his splendor shares. 

And the rivers from the plains 

And the torrents from the mountains 

Shout to him and clamor : Brother ! 

Brother, take thy brothers with thee, 

With thee to thy ancient father, 

To the everlasting ocean, 

Who with outstretched arms awaits us. 

Arms, alas ! which vainly open 

To embrace his loving children. 

For the greedy sand devours us ; 

In the dreary waste the sunbeams 

Suck our blood, or else a hill 



1 8 SDranslahons 

To a pool confines us. Brother ! 
Take thy brothers from the plain, 
Take thy brothers from the mountains, 
Take them with thee to thy sire ! 

Come ye all. then ! 

Now in grander volume swelling 

All his kindred 

Bear their sovereign Prince aloft, 

And in rolling triumph he 

Gives names to countries: cities 

Start to life beneath his feet. 

Irrepressibly he rushes, 

Leaves the city's flaming spires. 

Domes of marble, a creation 

Of his wealth, he leaves behind. 

Cedar palaces the Atlas 
Bears upon his giant shoulders, 
Over him a thousand banners 
Rustle waving in the breeze, 
Testifying of his glory. 

Thus he bears along his brothers. 
And his treasures, and his children ; 
Thundering joy, he bears them on 
To the waiting father's heart. 

Goethe 



2Dran0lation0 



PRIMEVAL WORDS 
Gun lie, 

Xf^rf^i^ o" t'^''^^ ^^'^y ^vlli(•ll launched thee 
into bciiii^ 
The sun ichUril stood to every 
planet 
Thy life commenied, and with that doom 
agree! no- 
Obeys till now the impulse which l)i'<;an it. 
Such must thou he, thyself thy fate decree- 
in i; ; 
Thus did the sibyl say, the i)iophel sang it; 
Nor lime nor force that inwrought type can 

sever 
Which through thy life unfolds itself forever. 

Yet hath this fl.NtMJ a niovabU- (Mifolded, 

That round us, with us moves, our jxith 
pursuing; 
Not by ourselves alone, by others moulded, 

We learn to do as we see others doing. 
And I'ortune rules, now lauded, and now 
scolded ; 



20 translations? 

Youth sports with Hfe, its graver cares 
eschewing. 
Until the fulhiess of the years invite it, 
The lamp doth wait the flame that shall ignite 
it. 

"Epcos. 

It comes at length, from highest heaven de- 
scending, 
Whither of old from chaos void it flew, 
Nearer it comes, its light wings earthward 
bending, 
And brow and bosom with spring gales 
doth woo ; 
Now seeming to depart, now hither tending. 
Then pleasure grows to pain, so wild, so 
new. 
And while with fickle aims the many palter, 
The true heart worships at one chosen altar. 

And thus it stands as in the stars we read it 
Once more. Condition, law; and all our 
willing 
Is wilhng only because Heaven decreed it. 
That will prevails each wilder impulse still- 
ing 
Each fond caprice ; the idols that mislead it 
The heart renounces. Duty's law fulfilling. 



2Dran0!atton0 21 



With show of freedom now the years sur- 
round us 
While straiter Hmits than before have bound 
us. 

"EXiris. 
Strait be the Hmits Duty's law enforces, 
Let walls of adamant around us rise ; 
Yet know I one whose flight in triumph 
courses 
High over all, and time and space defies. 
Hail to thee Hope ; thy airy being's sources 
Are sun and mist, thy path the boundless 
skies, 
By thee impelled, no age, no zone can bind 

us; 
Wave but thy wing, and aeons lie behind us. 

Goethe 

COPTIC SONG 

gEAVE to the learned their vain dis- 
putations, 
Strict and sedate let the peda- 
gogues be. 
Ever the wise of all ages and nations 
Nod to each other, and smile and agree ; 




22 SDrandationa 

Vain the attempt to cure fools of their folly, 
Children of wisdom abandon it wholly, 

Fool them and rule them, for so it should be. 

Merlin the old in his tomb ever shining, 
Where as a youngling I heard him divining. 

Similar counsel confided to me ; 
Vain the attempt to cure fools of their folly, 
Children of wisdom abandon it wholly, 

P^ool them and rule them, since fools they 
will be. 

Mountains frequented by Indian adorers. 
Crypts, the resort of Egyptian explorers, 

All that is sacred confirms the decree ; 
Vain the attempt to cure fools of their folly, 
Children of wisdom abandon it wholly, 

Fool them and rule them, for so it must be. 

Goethe 



HARZ JOURNEY IN WINTER 



S soars the hawk 
On heavy morning clouds 
With downy pinions resting, 
Intent on prey, 
Soar thou my song ! 




2Dran0lation0 23 

For a God hath to each 

His path prescribed, 

Where the happy rush swift 

To the joyful goal. 

But he whose heart is 

Shrunk with misfortune, 

He vainly struggles 

Against the strong bond 

Of the iron thread 

Which only tlie too-bitter shears 

Shall one day sever. 

To awful thickets 

Press the wild game, 

And together with the s])arrows, 

Long since the wealthy 

Have slunk to their bogs. 

'T is easy following 
Where Fortune leads, 
Like the comfortable train 
On mended ways, after 
A prince's entrance. 

Rut who goes apart there ? 
His path is lost in the bush, 
Behind him the thicket 
Closes together, 



24 %Tnmhtiom 

The grass stands straight again, 
The desert devours him. 

His wounds who shall heal 

To whom balm became poison ? 

Who out of love's fullness 

Drank hatred of men. 

First despised, then a despiser, 

Devouring in secret 

His own worth in 

Unsatisfied selfhood. 

Is there, Father of Love, 

A tone in thy psalter 

That can speak to his ear ? 

Oh, comfort his heart ! 

Ope Thou his clouded eye 

To the thousand springs 

That beside him in the desert 

Gush for the thirsting. 

Thou who createst 

Joys in abundance, 

So that each one's cup runneth over, 

Bless the brothers of the chase, 

On the track of their game, 

In youthful wantonness 

Of frolic slaughter, 

Late avengers of the mischief 



2Dran0latton0 25 

Against which vainly 

For years the peasant 

Strove with his club. 

But envelop the lone one 

In thy gold clouds ; 

With wintergreen entwine, Love ! 

Till blossoms the rose again, 

The moist locks of thy poet. 

With torch dimly gleaming 

Thou lightest him 

In his goings by night 

Over ways that are fathomless, 

Through fields that are desolate. 

With the thousand-colored morning 

Thou laugh'st to the heart of him. 

With the biting storm 

Thou bearest him aloft. 

Winter-streams from the rocks 

Pour into his palms, 

And an altar of sweetest thanksgiving 

Is to him the dreaded mountain's 

Snow-piled summit 

With spirit-ranks crowned 

By boding nations. 

Thou ^ standest with unexplored bosom 
Mysteriously revealed 
1 The Brocken. 



26 2Dranfi?lation0 

Above the astonished world, 
And gazcst through clouds 
On their realms and their glory 
Which thou enrichest from the veins 
Of thy brothers beside thee. 

Goethe 

UNCLE 1 KRONOS 
( Time as a stage-driver ; Life, a dafs Journey.) 

URRY thee, Kronos ! 

On with thy rattling trot ! 

Down-hill goes the way ; 

Thy loitering sickens 
My dizzy brain. 
On, over stock and stone ! 
Jolt as it may, 
Bear me swift into life ! 

Now again with 
Breath-exhausting stride, 
Hard the up-hill way. 
Up, then ! and tarry not, 
Striving, hoping, still up ! 

1 In the German, Schwager, brother-in-law, — a slang 
term appUed to stage-drivers. 




SCrandationo 27 



Wide, high, glorious the view ! 
Prospect of hfe all around ! 
From mountain to mountain afar 
Broods the eternal mind, 
Eternal life presaging. 

Sidewise the hut's shady covert 
Thee invites, 

And a solace-foretokening look 
On the threshold of yonder maid. 
Solace thee ! Me too, maiden, 
Bless with the foaming draught, 
Bless with thy health-beaming eye ! 

Down, then ! More swiftly descend ! 
See ! the sun now sinks ; 
Quick, ere it set, ere chilly age 
O'ertake me on the moor 
Ere my toothless jaws chatter 
And my shambling limbs fail. 

Drunk with the sun's last ray, 
Whirl me ! A sea of fire 
Flush in my swimming eyes — 
Whirl me dazzled and reeling 
Into HelPs nocturnal gate ! 

Sound, O driver, thy horn ! 
Clatter with echoing tramp 



28 2Dranfi;latton0 

That Orcus may know we are coming; 
That the host may be at the door 
To give us friendly reception. 

Goethe 

THE KING IN THULE 



HERE lived a king in Thule, 
A truer never breathed, 
To him his mistress duly 
A golden cup bequeathed. 



That cup, his choicest treasure, 
He drained at every bout; 

His eyes ran o'er with pleasure 
Whene'er he drank thereout. 

His day of life declining, 
His towns he reckoned up, 

All to his heirs resigning, 
All but the golden cup. 

Once more he held high wassail 

With all his chivalry 
In his ancestral castle, 

His castle by the sea. 



2Dran0lationflf 29 

The old toper ere he perished 
There drank life's parting glow, 

Then flung the cup he cherished 
Into the wave below. 

He saw it falling, drinking, 

And sinking in the sea, 
His eyes the while were sinking, 

Ne'er another drop drank he. 

Goethe 

% 

THE FISHER 



HE water rushed, the water swelled, 
A fisher seated nigh 
Cool to the heart his angle held. 
And watched with dreamy eye. 



And as he sits and watches there. 
Behold ! the waves divide ; 

With dripping hair a woman fair 
Uprises from the tide. 

She sang to him, and thus she sued, 
" With human arts, oh, why, 

Why lurest thou my favored brood 
In daylight's glow to die ? 




30 2Dran0lation0 

" Ah, knewest thou how cheerily 
The little fishes fare, 
Thou 'd'st dive with me beneath the sea 
And find contentment there. 

" Doth not the blessed sun at noon 
His face in ocean lave ? 
Doth not the ripple-breathing moon 
Look lovelier in the wave ? 

" Doth not the deep-down heaven invite 
The moist transfigured blue ? 
Doth not thine own fair face delight, 
Seen through the eternal dew ? " 

The water rushed, the water swelled. 

It laved his naked feet ; 
The fisher's heart with longing thrilled 

As when true lovers greet. 

She sang to him, she spake to him, 
With him then all was o'er, 

She half compels, while half he wills, 
And straight is seen no more. 

Goethe 




CranMattonsf 31 



MIGNON'S SONG 

NOW'ST thou the land that bears 

the citron's bloom ? 
The golden orange glows 'mid ver- 
dant gloom, 
A gentle wind from heaven's blue azure blows, 
The myrtle low, and high the laurel grows, — 
Know'st thou the land ?^ 

Oh, there ! oh, there ! 
Would I with thee, my best beloved, repair. 

Know'st thou the house, the columns' stately 

hne ? 
The hall is splendid and the chambers shine, 
And marble statues stand and look at me ; 
Alas ! poor child, what have they done to thee ? 
Know'st thou the house ? ^ 

Oh, there ! oh, there ! 
Would I with thee, my guardian dear, repair. 

Know'st thou the mountain with its cloudy 

slopes ? 
The mule his way through mist and darkness 

gropes ; 

1 Literally, " Know'st thou it well ? " But the word 
"well," in this case, does not answer to the German 
WoM. 



32 2Dran0lation0 



In caverns dwells the dragon's ancient brood, 
Tumbles the rock and over it the flood, — 
Know'st thou the mountain ?i 

There ! oh, there ! 
Our pathway lies ; O father, let us fare ! 

Goethe 



TO THE MOON 




OON that fillest wood and dell 
With thy misty light ! 
Once again thy magic spell 
Frees my spirit quite. 



Comforting o'er all the scene 
Broods thy tranquil ray, 

Like a friend, whose eye serene 
Smiles upon my way. 

Echoes come of grief and glee ; 

Each remembered tone — 
All the past comes back to me, 

Wandering here alone. 

Flow, flow on, beloved stream, 
Ceaseless is my woe ; 



2Dran0lationsf 33 

So fled love's delicious dream, 
Truth and honor so ! 

Gone the joy that once was mine, 

Gone, but precious yet ! 
Reft of all I vainly pine, 

Vainly would forget. 

River, rush the vale along ! 

Rush and never stay ; 
Suit thy murmurs to my song; 

Dear to me alway. 

Whether through the wintry night 

Raves the swelling flood, 
Or, to make the springtide bright. 

Feeds each opening bud. 

Happy he who without hate 
Shuns the world's rude noise, 

Link'd to one who shares his fate, 
And with him enjoys 

What by multitudes unguessed, 

Or unheeded quite, 
Haunts the mazes of the breast 

In the silent night. 

Goethe. 




34 SDranslation^ 



SPIRIT-GREETING 

E stands upon the turret high, 
The hero's noble wraith, 
And to the skiff that passeth by, 
" Fair speed the voyage ! " he 
saith. 



** Behold these sinews were so strong, 
This heart so strong and wild, 
Such pith did to these bones belong, 
So high the board was piled. 

" One half my life I stormed away, 
One half in rest I drew ; 
And thou, thou mortal of to-da,y. 
Thy mortal path pursue ! " 

Goethe 



THE SINGER 

HAT strains are these before the 
gate ? 
Upon the bridge what chorus ? 
Go, bring the minstrel hither straight, 
'And let him play before us ! 




IDransflations; 35 

The king commands, the page retires, 
The page returns, the king requires 
The aged man to enter. 

' God greet ye, lords and ladies gay ! 

What wealth of starry lustre ! 
Star upon star in rich array, 

Who names each shining cluster ? 
Amid such wealth and pomp sublime 
Shut, shut, mine eyes ! this is no time 

To gaze in stupid wonder." 

He closed his eyes, he struck a chord, 

A brave old ditty played he, 
Looked boldly on each noble lord. 

And in her lap each lady. 
The king, delighted with the strain, 
Commanded that a golden chain 

Reward the honored singer. 

The golden chain give not to me, 

Bestow it on thy Ritter, 
Who bears the palm of chivalry 

Where hostile lances glitter. 
Bestow it on thy Chancellor, 
And be one golden burden more 

To other burdens added. 



36 2Dran6lation0 

" My sono is like the woodbird's note, 
An unbought, careless burden ; 

The lay that gushes from the throat 
Is all-sufiicient guerdon. 

But might I choose, this choice were mine, 

A beaker of the richest wine, 
A golden beaker bring me ! " 

The beaker brought, the minstrel quaffed : 

" Oh balmy cup of blessing ! 
And blessed the house, in such a draught 

A common boon possessing ! 
When fortune smiles, then think of me, 
And thank ye God as heartily 

As 1 for this now thank ye." 

GOETHK 

THE KNIGHT TOGGENBURG 

NIGHT, the love I owe a brother 
I to thee may give ; 
Sister's love, demand no other, 
P'or it makes me grieve. 
All thy coming, all thy going. 

Tranquil 1 would see, 
Nor with silent grief o'erflowing, 
Meaningless to me. 




2Dran0lattonfif 37 

And he hears with anguish smarting, 

Mounts his trusty steed, 
With a wild embrace departing, 

Though his bosom bleed. 
At his summons round him rally 

All his Switzer-band, 
With the cross bedecked they sally 

To the Holy Land. 

There great feats of valor glorious 

Prove a hero's arm, 
And his pennon waves victorious 

Where the foemen swarm. 
And the Toggenburger's daring 

Scares the Saracen, 
But the wound, his bosom tearing, 

Will not heal again. 

One long year he bore the sorrow, 

He could bear no more ; 
Peace from war he could not borrow. 

Quits the Paynim shore. 
Sees a ship with canvas swelling, 

Hastes from Joppa's strand 
To the clime which holds her dwelling, 

Which her breath has fanned. 

To her hall the pilgrim hies him, 
Knocketh at her gate, 



38 SCranolactonc^ 

Thui\ilt«r-tiilini!is there surprise him, 

I lo has lome ti>o late. 
"She you seek is consecrated, 

All with veil am! vows 
YevSterilay with God was runted, 

Now is Heaven's spinise." 

Then the ki\ii;hl reiuuuieeil loiever 

C\\stle, sword, aiui speai. 
Saw his unused aru\or i\ever. 

Nor his ihars^er dear. 
Fn>m the 'rog<;enlnui; deseei\ded 

l''ares he tiMth unknowi\ ; 
Lin\hs that luut^ with stct-l \vcmc> splemlid 

Ninv the haii ^ K>th own. 

Far reiuoved from war and «;lorv 

He hath built his home 
Where tVi>n\ out the limlens hoarv 

Shows tlu> llMlVtMlt's lllMUtV 

There he sat when nu>in w.is >;h\unini;. 

Sat till eUvse ot i\i\\ ; 
Kves with fond expeit.im (> bc.uuint; — 

Watilu'il he there alwav; 

looked to where the convent i;listeued 

Ancient trees vimonj^ ; 
Toward her casement looked and listened 

Till the casemei\t swun^i, 



HDranolationo^ 39 

Till I lie loved one lie discovered, 

Till her linage mild 
Bendiiio- o'er the vallc>y hovered, 

On the valley smiled. 

Solaet'd (Iicii, nor liirther wooing, 

Laid himself to rest, 
Trusting, with the day ensuing, 

To be newly hies I. 
Every other hope resigning, 

While the years went round, 
Thus he waited unre|)ining 

I'oi I he casement's sound; 

Till (he loved one he discovered, 

Till her image mild 
iJendiiig o'er the valley hovered, 

On the valley smiled. 
Thus one morning found him lying 

Cold in death's embrace ; 
Toward her casement still, in dying, 

Gazed the tranquil face. 

ScniLl.KR 



40 2Dransf!atton0 



THE PILGRIM 




IFE'S first beams were bright around 
me, 
When I left my father's cot, 
Breaking every tie that bound me 
To that dear and hallowed spot. 

Childish hopes and youthful pleasures, 
Freely I renounced them all; 

Went in quest of nobler treasures, 
Trusting to a higher call. 

For to me a voice had spoken, 

And a Spirit seemed to say : 
Wander forth, the path is broken, 

Yonder, eastward lies thy way. 

Rest not till a golden portal 

Thou hast reached, — there enter in; 
And what thou hast prized as mortal, 

There, immortal life shall win. 

Evening came, and morn succeeded; 

On I sped and never tired ; 
Cold, nor heat, nor storm I heeded ; 

Boundless hope my soul inspired. 



SDransflationsi 41 

Giant cliffs rose up before me, 
Horrid wilds around me lay ; 

O'er the cliffs my spirit bore me ; 
Through the wilds I forced my way ; 

Came to where a mighty river 
Eastward rolled its sullen tide ; 

Forth I launched with bold endeavor : 
" Pilgrim stream, be thou my guide ! " 

It hath brought me to the ocean 
Now, upon the wide, wide sea. 

Where 's the land of my devotion ? 
What I seek seems still to flee. 

Woe is me ! no path leads thither; 

Earth's horizons still retreat ; 
Yonder never will come hither. 

Sea and sky will never meet ! 

Schiller 




42 2Dran0lation0 



LONGING 

ROM this vale with hills o'ertovver- 

From these mists in which I pine, 
From these skies forever lowering, 
Could I flee, what joy were mine ! 

Sunny slopes that smile " Come hither ! " 

Ever-blooming fields I see, 
Had I wings to waft me thither. 

Thither straight my course would be. 

Harmonies I hear resounding, 

Tones that breathe a heavenly calm, 

And the breezes there abounding 
Waft towards me fragrant balm. 

Golden fruits I see inviting, 
Glowing 'mid the leafy shades, 

And those blooming flowers no blighting 
Breath of icy winter fades. 

'Neath that sunshine ever glowing 

Life, how lovely and how fair ! 
And upon those hilltops blowing 

Oh how fresh must be the air ! 



2Dran0latton0 43 



But the flood that rolls between me 
And the land for which I sigh 

Fiercely sweeps ; my heart within me 
Trembles as it rushes by. 

Lo ! a skiff, — I see it nearing, 
What if pilot there be none ! 

Swift aboard ! no danger fearing, 
Inspiration bears it on. 

Dare and trust, whate'er betide thee, 
From the gods no pledge demand, 

'T is a wonder that must guide thee 
Would'st thou win the wonder-land. 

Schiller 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA 



AW'ST thou a castle fair ? 
Yon castle by the sea ; 
Golden and rosy there 
The clouds float gorgeously. 



And fain it would descend 

Into the wave below, 
And fain would it soar and blend 

With the evening's crimson glow. 




44 2Dran0lationsi 

Yon castle have I viewed, 
Yon castle by the sea ; 

The moon above it stood 
And the mists hung heavily. 

The wind and the heaving sea 
Sounded they fresh and strong ? 

From the Hall came notes of glee, 
Harping and festive song ? 



The winds and the waters all 

Rested in slumber deep, 
And I heard from the groaning Hall 

Music that made me weep. 

Saw'st thou the king and his spouse 
Walking there side by side, 

The diadem on their brows. 

And their mantles waving wide? 

Led they their cherished one 
With joy, a daughter fair. 

Resplendent as the sun 

In the light of her golden hair ? 

Well saw I the royal pair. 
But without the crown I wot ; 




2Dransilation0 45 

Dark mourning weeds they wear. 
The maiden saw I not. 

Uhland 

THE DREAM 

DREAMED not long ago 
I stood on a rocky steep, 
On a ch'ff by the ocean's strand, 
And I looked far over the land, 
And down on the glorious deep. 

Beneath me, in gallant trim, 

A stately bark lay moored, 
The surge its dark side laving, 
Gayly its flag was waving, 

And a pilot stood on board. 

And behold there came from the mountains 

A merry, merry band ; 
Bedecked with garlands bright, 
They seemed like spirits of light, 

As they tripped along the strand. 

Say, pilot, wilt thou take us .?" 
" What nymphs be ye so gay ? " 



46 2Dran0lattons( 

" Earth's Joys and Pleasures are we, 
From earth we fain would flee, 
Oh, bear us from earth away ! " 

Then the pilot he bade them enter ; 

And they entered one by one. 
" But tell me, are here all ? 
Are none left in bower or hall ? " 

And they answered, " None." 

Away then ! the bark unmoored, 

Leaped gayly from the anchor's thrall, 
And away she sped with a glorious motion, 
And I saw them vanish over the ocean, 
Earth's Joys and Pleasures all. 

Uhland 



FROM HEINE 

'M tossed and driven to and fro ; 
A few hours more and I shall meet 

her, 
The maid than whom earth holds no 
sweeter. 
Heart ! my heart, why throb'st thou so ? 




2Lran0latton0 47 

But the Hours they are lazy folk, 
Leisurely their slow steps dragging, 
Yawning, creeping, lingering, lagging, 
Come ! hurry on, you lazy folk ! 

With hurry and worry I 'm driven and chased. 
But the Hours were never in love, I judge, 
And so they conspire and wreak their grudge 
By secretly mocking lover's haste. 

FROM LA MOTTE FOUQUE 

E whose soul's prophetic feeling, 
Softly through his senses stealing. 

Warns him that his end is nigh, — 
At the gate of Mercy kneeling 
Let him place his trust on high. 
God our refuge and defence — 
God shall ease his going hence. 

See ye how the east is sparkling ? 
Hear ye angel voices singing 

To the newborn morning's ray ? 
Ye who long have wandered darkling. 
Welcome death, deliverance bringing. 

Gracious messenger of day. 




48 2i:ran0lattons; 

Give him friendly salutation, 
He your friendship will repay, 

Change to joy your lamentation ; 
Such hath been his wont alway. 

He whose soul's prophetic feeling, 
Softly o'er his senses stealing, 

Warns him that his end is nigh, — 
At the gate of Mercy kneeling 

Let him place his trust on high. 
God our refuge and defence — 
God will ease his going hence. 

IS 

LUTZOW'S WILD CHASE 

!|HAT gleams from yon wood in the 
bright sunshine ? 
Hear it nearer and nearer sound- 
ing ; 

It moveth along in a lowering line, 
And wailing horns their shrill notes combine, 

The hearer with terror astounding. 
Ask you whence those black horsemen ? what 

meaneth their race ? 
That is Liitzow's wild and desperate chase. 




Cransflations? 49 



What is it that flits through the forest shade, 
From mountain to mountain stealing ? 

Now it lurks in a darkhng ambuscade, 

Now the wild hurrah and the cannonade 
O'er the fallen Frank are peahng. 

Ask you whence those black huntsmen ? what 
game do they trace ? 

That is Liitzow's wild and desperate chase. 

Where yon vineyards bloom, where the Rhine- 
waves dash, 
The tyrant had sought him a cover, 

But sudden and swift, like the lightning's 
flash, 

The avenger plunges, the billows flash, 

And his strong arms have ferried him over. 

Ask you why those black swimmers the Rhine 
embrace ? 

That is Liitzow's wild and desperate chase. 

What conflict rages in yonder glen ? 

What meaneth the broadswords' clashing ? 
'T is the conflict of iron-hearted men, 
And the watch-fires of freedom are kindled 
again. 
The heavens are red with their flashing. 
Ask ye who those black warriors .'' what foe 

do they face ? 
That is Liitzow's wild and desperate chase. 



so aDran^lattonfif 

Who yonder are smiling farewell to the light, 
Where the foe breathes his last execration ? 
Death's shadows have swathed their brows in 

night, 
But their hearts are true, and their souls are 

bright, 
They have seen their country's salvation. 
Ask ye who are those struggling in Death's 

embrace ? 
That was Liitzow's wild and desperate chase. 

Ay, the wild chase and the German chase, 

Let tyrants and hangmen shun it. 
But mourn not for us who have run our race, 
The country is free, and the day dawns apace. 
What though with our lives we have won it ? 
And be it proclaimed from race to race. 
That was Liitzow's wild and desperate chase. 

Th. Korner 



LUTHER'S HYMN 

MIGHTY fortress is our God, 
A bulwark never failing, 

Our helper He, amid the flood 
Of mortal ills prevailing ; 




2Dran0latton0 51 

For still our ancient foe 
Doth seek to work us woe ; 
His craft and power are great, 
And armed with cruel hate, 
On earth is not his equal. 

Did we in our own strength confide, 
Our striving would be losing, 

Were not the right man on our side, 
The man of God's own choosing. 

Dost ask who that may be ? 

Christ Jesus, it is He, 

Lord Sabaoth His name, 

From age to age the same, 
And He must win the battle. 

And though this world, with devils filled, 

Should threaten to undo us. 
We will not fear, for God hath willed 

His truth to triumph through us. 
The Prince of Darkness grim, 
We tremble not at him, 
His rage we can endure. 
For lo ! his doom is sure, 

One little word shall fell him. 

That word above all earthly powers — 
No thanks to them — abideth ; 



52 



Pocm0 



The spirit and the gifts are ours, 
Through Him who with us sideth. 

Let goods and kindred go, 

This mortal Hfe also ; 

The body they may kill, 

God's truth abideth still, 
His kingdom is forever. 



ORIGINAL POEMS 



THE CLASS OF "TWENTY-FIVE" ON THEIR 
FORTIETH ANNIVERSARY 



ORTY years have rolled away, 
Friends, since we who meet to-day 
Entered on the world's highway. 
In eighteen twenty-five. 




Forty years of manhood's strain, 
Forty years of joy and pain, 
Crown us as we meet again, — 
Class of " Twenty-five." 



Hear your class-day spokesman say. 
Not in Greek or Latin, nay ! 
But in plain vernacula. 
Welcome " Twenty-five ! " 



Poem0 S3 

Welcome, classmates, one and all ! 
Let the mask of rigor fall, — 
Hearty mirth once more recall, 
Merry " Twenty-five ! " 

Forty times hath summer bloomed, 
Forty times hath winter gloomed, 
Forty years have not consumed 
All of " Twenty-five." 

Yet, thinned locks and visage sere 
Witness, Time hath forayed here ; 
Thinned by death your ranks appear. 
Class of " Twenty-five." 

Peace ! to those who with us trod 
Long since Alma's classic sod, — 
Cherished classmates gone to God, 
Friends of " Twenty-five." 

Health ! to those who still remain : 
Jocund heart and active brain. 
Living, still will we maintain, 
We of " Twenty-five." 

Living, still we trust to grow. 
Still survives in us the glow 
Kindled forty years ago, 
In eighteen twenty-five. 



54 Poems 




Forty years have sped since we 
Walked in learning's first " Degree "; 
Forty more, — and where will be 
The class of " Twenty-five " ? 



THE CLASS OF 1825 ON THEIR FIFTIETH 
ANNIVERSARY 



NCE more we meet as in our prime, 
Old comrades tried and true ; 
Once more recall the golden time 
When life and hope were new. 



The Past returns, it reappears ! 

The ancient fountains flow, 
And steals across these fifty years 

A breath of long-ago. 

Our Alma Mater, health to her ! 

'Tis in her name we meet ; 
But oh, how changed from what we were 

When sitting at her feet ! 

Her children still, how^ever changed 

In this our life's decline, 
The fifty years have not estranged 

Our hearts from "old lang syne." 



poems; 55 



Our ranks are thinned : the half are gone 

Who shared our college-day ; 
Earth's trials o'er, they 've journeyed on- 

The unknown endless way. 

To us is given a longer date, 

But " Time is on the wing " ; 
We heed his flight, nor idly wait 

Whatever life may bring ; 

But gird us for the daily fight 

With daily cares and foes, 
Till comes the long mysterious night 

And all our labors close. 

Come when it will — that night of death ! 

While flesh and heart survive. 
We '11 cherish to our latest breath 

The class of Twenty-five. 




56 poem0 



FLORENCE IN NOVEMBER 

1847. 

HAT magic spell detains the laggard 
year 
A willing loiterer in this haunted 
vale ? 

See, from the Zodiac due, the Archer near 
Essays in vain with nipping shaft to sear 
Valdarno's breast secure in leafy mail. 
The frolic rose still dances on its spray, 
Staid Autumn apes the jocund airs of May, 
And Boboli is bright with summer cheer. 
Declare, ye sages ! Delia Crusca, say, 
What witchery defies the season's sway 
Where yet the Bear beholds his subject 

sphere ? 
'T is glory makes eternal summer here. 
Let ground less hallowed own the year's 

decay; 
Flush with her fathers' fame, Firenze flowers 
alway. 



^ 



^otms S7 




THE IDEALIST 

ATH this world without me wrought 
Other substance than my thought ? 
Lives it by my sense alone, 
Or by essence of its own ? 

Doth yon fire-ball, poised in air, 

Hang by my permission there ? 

Are the clouds that wander by 

But the offspring of mine eye, — 

Born with every glance I cast, 

Perishing when that is past ? 

And those thousand, thousand eyes 

Scattered through the twinkling skies, 

Do they draw their life from mine. 

Or of their own beauty shine ? 

Now I close my eyes, my ears. 

And creation disappears ; 

Yet if I but will the view. 

All creation lives anew; 

Or — more wonderful — within 

New creations do begin. 

Hues more bright, and forms more rare 

Than the world of sense doth wear. 

Pass before the inner eye, 

Born of its own sufficiency. 



5 8 poertiflf 

Visions come and visions go; 
What is substance ? what is show ? 
Is the world of sense more stable 
Than the world which dreamers fable ? 
Will its life, with mine begun, 
Vanish quite when that is done ? 
Or another consciousness 
With the self-same forms impress ? 
Will those stars no longer blaze 
When these eyes have ceased to gaze ? 
And the joy of things be o'er 
When these pulses beat no more ? 

Thought ! that in me stirs and lives, 

Life to all things living gives, 

Art thou not thyself, perchance, 

But the universe in trance ? 

A reflection inward flung 

By that world thou fanciedst sprung 

From thyself, — thyself a dream ; — 

Of the world's thinking thou the theme ? 

Be it thus, or l)e thy ray 

Offspring of interior day, 

Thought ! through thee alone for me 

Hath this world reality. 

Therefore in thee will I live, 

To thee all my being give, 

Losing still that I may find 

This bounded self in boundless mind. 




Pocm0 59 



THE NORTHERN LIGHTS AND THE 
STARS 

HE Stars are watching at their posts 
And raining silence from the 
sky; 
Thus guarded by the heavenly 
hosts, 
Earth closes her day-wearied eye. 

A reign of holy quietness 

Replaces the imperious light, 
And Nature's grateful tribes confess 

The calm beatitude of night : 

When from the Arctic pit up-streams 
The Boreal fire's portentous glare, 

And bursting into arrowy streams. 
Hurls horrid s])lendors on the air. 

The embattled meteors scale the arch, 
And toss their lurid banners wide; 

Heaven reels with their tempestuous march 
And quivers in the flashing tide. 

Against the everlasting stars, 
Against the old empyreal Right, 



6o ^otm& 



They vainly wage their anarch wars, 
In vain they urge their fatuous light. 

The skies may flash, and meteors glare, 
And Hell invade the spheral school ; 

But Law and Love are sovereign there, 
And Sirius and Orion rule. 

The stars are watching at their posts. 

Again the silences prevail; 
The meteor crew, like guilty ghosts, 

Have slunk to the " infernal jail." 

The truths of God forever shine 

Though Error glare and Falsehood rage ; 
The cause of Order is divine, 

And Wisdom rules from age to age. 

Faith, Hope, and Love, your time abide ! 

Let Hades marshal all his hosts. 
The heavenly forces with you side ; 

The stars are watching at their posts. 




ponn0 6 1 



PASSION HYMN 

WAS the day when God's Anointed 
Died for us the death appointed 

Bleeding on the guilty cross, — 
Day of darkness, day of terror, 
Deadly fruit of ancient error, 
Nature's fall and Eden's loss. 

Haste, prepare the bitter chalice ! 
Gentile hate and Jewish malice 

Lift the royal victim high. 
Like the serpent wonder-gifted 
Which the prophet once uplifted. 

For a sinful world to die ! 

Conscious of the deed unholy. 
Nature's pulses beat more slowly, 

And the sun his light denied ; 
Darkness wrapped the sacred city, 
And the earth with fear and pity 

Trembled, when the Just One died. 

It is finished, Man of sorrows ! 
From Thy cross our nature borrows 
Strength to bear and conquer thus. 



62 Poems; 



While exalted there we view Thee, 
Mighty Sufferer, draw us to Thee, 
Sufferer victorious ! 

Not in vain for us uplifted, 
Man of sorrows, wonder-gifted. 

May that sacred symbol be ! 
High and hoar amid the ages, 
Guide of heroes and of sages. 

May it guide us still to Thee ! 

Still to Thee, whose love unbounded 
Sorrow's deep for us hath sounded, 

Perfected by conflicts sore. 
Glory to Thy cross forever ! 
Star that points our high endeavor 

Whither Thou hast gone before. 

SURSUM CORDA 

LEST be the light that shows the 
way, 
And blest the way the light has 
shown ! 

We welcome the victorious day, 
And everv faithless fear disown. 




poems? 63 



A tyrant God, and Hell's despair, 
No more becloud our earthly lives, 

The heavens are wide, and room is there 
For every soul that upward strives. 

In love to God and love to man 

Our simple creed finds ample scope ; 

Secure in God's unerring plan, 

We walk by faith, are saved by hope. 

Begone, ye spectres of the night 

That once enthralled the darkened soul ! 

Our watchword be the inward light. 
The onward march, the endless goal ! 

% 

E PROFUNDIS 

ENEATH Thy hammer, Lord ! I lie 
With contrite spirit prone : 
Oh, mould me till to self I die 
And live to Thee alone. 

With frequent disappointments sore 

And many a bitter pain. 
Thou laborest at my being's core 

Till I be formed again. 




64 |Borm0 



Smite, Lord ! Thine hammer's needful wound 

My baffled hopes confess, 
Thine anvil is the sense profound 

Of mine own nothingness. 

Smite ! till from all its idols free, 

And filled with love divine. 
My heart shall know no good but Thee 

And have no will but Thine. 



THE MORNING STAR 

From the *' New England Magazine." 

SINGLE star how bright, 

From earth-mists free, 
In heaven's deep shrine its image 
burns ! 
Star of the morn, my spirit yearns 
To be with thee. 

Lord of the desert sky ! 

Night's last, lone heir, 
Benign thou smilest from on high. 
Pure, calm, as if an angel's eye 

Were watching there. 




JOoeuxfli 65 



Nor wholly vain I deem 

The Magiiin plan, 
That, s})hercd in thee, a spirit reigns 
Who knows this earth, and kindly deigns 

To succor man. 

Gone are thy glittering peers, 
( hienched each bright spark. 

Save where some pale sun's lingering ghost, 

Dull icmnant of a scattered host. 
Still spots the dark. 

liut thou, jjropitious star. 
Night's youngest born, 
Wilt not withdraw thy steady light 
Till bursts on yonder snow-clad height 
The rosy morn. 

Fair orb ! 1 love to watch 

Thy tran([uil ray ; 
Emblem art thou of Hope that springs 
When joys are fled, and dreaming brings 

The better day. 

So when from my life's course 
Its joys are riven, 
Rise o'er the death-mists gathering dun, 
Herald of an eternal sun. 

Rise hope of Heaven ! 



66 |Dorm0 




CHRISTMAS HYMN 

OME sing the olden song once more ! 
The Christmas carol sing; 
From mouth to mouth, from shore to 
shore, 
Let earth her tribute bring. 

Though nigh two thousand years have sped, 

The tale is ever fresh, — 
Of woman born, in humble shed, 

The word of God made flesh. 

With guiding star and angels' song 
Heaven greets the waiting earth, 

And sages come and shepherds throng 
To view the wondrous birth. 

There see fulfilled those prophet-dreams, 

That Hebrew vision old ; 
From Bethlehem's stall a glory streams 

That makes the future gold. 

A golden future, — health and peace 

To all beneath the sun ; 
A time when wars and wrongs shall cease 

And heaven and earth be one ; 



Poem0 6j 



Be this our trust, through long delay 
With no weak doubts defiled, 

And be in all our hearts to-day 
New born the eternal Child ! 



By ANNIS lee WISTER 




TRANSLATIONS 

By ANNIS lee WISTER 

— *— 

SOOTHING DAYS 

LOVE the soft, delicious hours 
Of days when Spring is in its birth, 
The azure-tinted skies rain showers 
Of warmth and splendor on the earth. 
The ice still lingers in the valley, 
The hills are bathed in sunny blue, 
And forth from home the maidens sally, 
And children's plays begin anew. 

And I, on yonder hill-top standing, 
Behold it all in still delight. 
My heart with yearnings pure expanding 
From which no wish is born outright. 
A child I seem, and Nature's toying 
Contents me with its tranquil charms, 
Her calm and restful mood enjoying, 
My soul lies cradled in her arms. 



72 HDranglations 

I love the soft, delicious hours 

When 'neath the sun's yet cheering ray 

Age says Farewell to fields and flowers ; 

Then Nature holds high holiday. 

No more bedecked with bud and blossom, 

Her active forces stir no more, 

In silence gathered to her bosom, 

Her depths profound she broodeth o'er. 

The soul that late felt such elation, 
Now sinks, from lofty soaring, low, 
It learns a sad renunciation, 
And memory contents it now. 
So sweet the silence all attending. 
So great its charm within the breast, 
That I would gladly be descending 
Within my grave to lie at rest. 

LUDWIG Uhland 



THE GOLDSMITH'S DAUGHTER 

SMITH was standing in his booth, 

'Mid pearls and jewels fine : 
" The brightest jewel here, in sooth, 
Art thou to me, Helena, 
Thou dearest daughter mine ! " 




2Dran0lations? ji 



A gallant knight there entered, with — 
" Welcome, thou maiden fair, 

And welcome thou, my trusty smith ; 

Make me a wreath, I pray thee, 
Vox my sweet bride to wear." 

And when the costly wreath was wrought. 

And in rich brilliance shone, 
Helena, filled with sadness, thought, 
As on her arm she hung it 

While seated all alone : 

" Ah, happy she, upon whose brow 
This brilliant wreath shall shine ! 
Ah, should that knight on me bestow 
A wreath of roses only, 

What joy would then be mine ! " 

Ere long returned the gallant knight, 
And well the wreath he scanned : 
"A ring with sparkling diamonds bright, 
My trusty goldsmith, make me 
For my fair maiden's hand." 

And when the costly ring was wrought, 

With many a brilliant stone, 
Helena, filled with saddest thought, 
Half drew it on her finger 

While seated all alone : 



74 translations? 

"Ah, happy she, whose finger fair 
With this bright ring shall shine ! 
If but one curl of his dear hair 
That gallant knight should give me, 
What joy would then be mine ! " 



Again the knight returned, and now 

The ring likewise he scanned; 

"Ah, well, my trusty smith, hast thou 

These bright adornments fashioned 

For that dear head and hand. 

"Yet how they suit, that I may see, 
Prithee, fair maiden, now 
Come hither, let me try on thee 
These jewels for my darling, — 
She is as fair as thou." 

It was a Sunday morning fair, 

And therefore this sweet maid 
Was for the day with reverent care, 
The church-bells' call obeying. 
All festally arrayed. 

She came with lovely shame aglow 
Before the knight to stand ; 

He placed the wreath upon her brow, 

The ring upon her finger, 
And then he took her hand : 



Cranslations; 



75 



" Helena sweet, Helena fair, 

The jest aside be laid ; 
Thou art the bride, of all most dear, 
For whom this golden chaplet, 

For whom the ring was made. 

" 'Mid gold, and pearls, and jewels fine, 
Thy years have passed till now ; 
And this to thee shall be the sign 
That thou, in highest honor. 
Through life with me shalt go." 

LuDWiG Uhland 




MAY-DEW 

N the meadows, on the forest 
With the dawn of morning gray, 
Spray from Eden's founts thou pour- 
est, 

Soft, refreshing Dew of May. 
All that makes Spring's fragrant bowers 
Sanctuaries of delight, 
Tender leaves and blooming flowers. 
Odors fine, declare thy might. 

Every shell this Dew that drinketh 
Straightway lovely pearls adorn, 



76 SCransdationfi; 

When within the oak it sinketh 
Thence the honey-bees are born. 
And the bird that upward soaring 
Dips in dew its slender bill 
Learns the songs, that then outpouring, 
Cause the solemn woods to thrill. 

Maidens wash their virgin faces 
In the Dew from May-bells white, 
With it bathe their golden tresses 
Till they glow with heaven's light. 
To the eye bedimmed with weeping 
Soothing sweet the Dew-drops are, 
As it marks, a kind watch keeping, 
Drenched in Dew, the morning star. 

Now on me be thou descending, 
O thou balm for every pain, 
Rest to weary eyelids lending, 
Let my heart not thirst in vain ! 
Give me youth my joys to lengthen, 
Heavenly visions bring anew, 
Still my upward glances strengthen, 
Soft, refreshing morning Dew ! 

LuDWiG Uhland 




2Drau0lacion0 77 



DEPARTURE 

HE leaves are floating downward, 
The yellowing branches wave, 
Ah ! all things fair and lovely 
Sink fading to the grave ! 



Far up on the tips of the forest 
Is gleaming the sun's pale ray, 

It rnight be the farewell kisses 
Of summer fading away. 

And I — for very yearning 

The tears would fain flow free, — 

This picture brings back the hour 
That parted thee and me. 

I could not choose but leave thee 
And knew that thou soon must die : 

Thou wast the perishing forest, 
The passing summer was I. 

n. Heine 




7^ 2Dran0lationfli 



AUTUMN COLORS 

HE green of Spring's fresh bowers 
Has tried — and tried in vain — 
To turn itself to flowers, 
To gold and crimson sheen. 



A web embroidered over 
With gold and red was seen, 
But still, beneath the cover, 
There strove the dusky green. 

That for which Spring has striven 
In vain, with quickening breath, 
Has been to Autumn given 
With chilly air of death. 

No scattered flower-cups blowing. 
No blossoms gold-bedight, 
But all the woods are glowing 
And every leaf is bright. 

Yet when the chill blast driveth, 
Their splendor falls away, 
For where no green surviveth 
The flowers must decay. 

FrIEDRICH RiJCKERT 



SCransilationsi 79 




A SONG OF SPRING 

|lHE Spring laughs out on each green 
height ; 
Before her Hes the earth, as bright 
As if in sooth a poet's dreaming 
Had ceased to be mere idle seeming. 

While thus creative on the earth 

The Sunlight gives to Being birth, 

The heart of man, — each flower is turning 

Above where holy light is burning. 

When evening paints the crimson dye, 
Wherein the sun must buried lie, 
Contented closes every blossom, 
And yearning ceases in the bosom. 

From morning to the close of day, 
A struggle marks the sun's bright way, 
A struggle, forming fresh, dissolving, 
From light pure beauty still evolving. 



The sun is God's own champion bold. 
Whose crest on azure field is gold. 
And for the glorious work he 's doing ^ 
Each spring his strength is aye renewing. 



8o SDranfiflations; 

The sun by day, the moon by night, 
Must each in turn maintain its might ; 
The sun paints red the rose's brightness. 
The moon reveals the lily's whiteness. 

A sky of sapphire arches o'er 
A nuptial chamber, green its floor. 
The bridal rose her charms beholding 
In the clear mirror there unfolding. 

The flush of morning dyes her dress, 
The dew begems her loveHness, 
The morning wind, most bold of wooers. 
Beneath her veil soft kisses showers. 

The Spring proclaims high festival. 
And straight appear the flowers all ; 
For girls the roses blush in beauty, 
For boys the jasmine flowers do duty. 

The violet hides with modesty, 
But still sought out it fain would be ; 
The rose blooms forth, a glowing flower. 
How could she hope concealed to cower ! 

Of Paradise the portals fair 

Next open in the morning air ; 

To earth from out the East come hasting 

Sweet odors that the Blest are tasting. 



Cranslations? Si 

Thus Eden's bowers are left alone, 
To earth their denizens have flown, 
Where soft the Angel-host reposes 
In lily-cups and hearts of roses. 

Now Sovereign Spring with gentle breath 
Stirs life to love, and moves e'en death ; 
The rugged rocks would fain be feeling 
The clasping ivy o'er them steahng. 

Ah, breath of Spring ! delight of love ! 
What joy the steadfast heart must prove 
To feel its love thus closely clinging 
And flowery wreaths around it flinging ! 

Where Nature's stillness reigns around, 
Where only peace and love are found, — 
Where calm and silent thoughts are brooding, 
Ne'er let harsh quarrels be intruding. 

They will but lead the mind away, 
Confused in desert wastes to stray ; 
They cause our every joy to vanish, 
And all we love from hfe they banish. 

Such guerdon does the world assign 
Unto her own ; — I rue each line 
Of song, where worldly joy intruded 
And praise of love has been excluded. 



82 Cransflatton0 

For love is all the poet's lore, 

And love is still our being's core, 

Immortal fame attends the verses 

Of him whose song love's praise rehearses. 

Hence, then, be folly's vain delight ! 
In heaven avails no earthly might; 
Let Heroes, Kings, and Victors know it, 
Go, find yourselves another Poet. 

For love my songs shall never fail, 
I '11 sing as sings the nightingale, 
In tones thus from my soul uprising. 
My inmost being harmonizing. 

F. RiJCKERT 

SONG 

JHAT if the bright day has departed. 
With all its wealth of spring and 

light ! 
The flowers need not be sad-hearted. 
Though dark and starless be the night ! 

For all the rays that late beamed brightly 
Now weave for them the fairest dreams. 




%vm&Ution$ 83 

And spring-tide's joyance closed up tightly 
Within their fragrant cups still beams. 

Thus give thy heart to love's own gladness, 
Shut all its light within thy breast, 
Then, though thy night be dark with sadness, 
The Spring will always be thy guest. 

Julius Sturm 

% 

PHANTOMS 

SAT and studied late, benighted. 
Beside the lamp my room that 

lighted, 
And though my eyes were weary, 
sore. 
Still turned the pages o'er and o'er, — 

When at my window came a tapping, — 
I don't believe in spirit-rapping, — 
And yet so high my window's range 
The tapping could not but seem strange. 

I peered into the night before me, 
Where through the trees the moon shone o'er 
me; 




84 SDran^lations? 

Below the nightingale sang clear, 
All else was silent everywhere. 

Yet scarce again had I been seated 
When straight the tapping was repeated. 
I oped the window wide, that free 
The tapper's entrance then might be. 

And sudden through the window hurrying 
Two brown and buzzing sprites came skurry- 

ing, 
May-beetles, who were vexed, 't was plain, 
That I within doors should remain, 

Still o'er my books my brain employing, 
And not be out with them, enjoying 
The beauty of the mild May night, 
Its fragrant flowers, its starlight bright. 

J. Sturm 




2I^rans?latton0 85 



A WINTER NIGHT 

I. 

flO silence all the air is chilled. 
Beneath my tread the snow is creak- 
ing. 
My breath is mist, my beard frost- 
filled, 
Yet still my onward course I 'm seeking. 

How solemn is the hush around ! 
Above the firs the moon is shining, 
Their branches droop upon the ground, 
As longingly toward death inchning. 

Frost ! freeze the heart within my breast ! 
Quench thou its fierce and glowing fire ! 
That it at last may share the rest 
Which doth this winter night inspire. 

II. 

A wolf, deep in the forest, howls. 
And, like a child its mother waking. 
Rousing the night from dreams, it prowls, 
Its bloody prey from darkness taking. 

Across the ice and snow, a storm 
Of wind in mad career is roaring, 



S6 %xm&\ntion& 

As fain by raging to grow warm, — 

Wake, heart ! thy wild complaints outpouring, 

Call forth thy dead from out the grave ! 
Rouse all the woes thy being blasting ! 
And bid them with the tempest rave, — 
Grim playfellow, from Norland hasting ! 

NiKOLAus Lenau 



AUTUMN 

ITH autumn tints the beechen wood 
is glowing 
Like to a sick man when his death 
he neareth 

The fleeting crimson on his cheek appeareth, 
Sad roses these, from which no songs come 
flowing. 

The brook flows onward, scarce we hear it 
bubble 

Adown the vale its quiet waters leading, 

As in the death-room friends go softly tread- 
ing 

That life's fast-fading dream they may not 
trouble. 




2Dran0lation5; 87 

The heart-sick wanderer here may be be- 
friended 
By Nature ; her dehghts are swiftly fleeing, 
She knoweth all the gloom that fills his being, 
And in her plaint he too is comprehended. 

N. Lenau 



AUTUMN 

UTUMN is here, — the leaves are 

falling, 
Through forests hoar the blasts wail 
free ; 

While spring and nightingales were calling 
I lingered on the dreary sea. 

When gentle light in heaven was glowing 
In vain for me its radiance warm, 
In ocean's waves no flowers were blowing, 
No songs were chanted by the storm. 

Thus life's young spring brought sorrow to me, 
In youth's delight I had no part; 
Now autumn's Farewells shiver through me 
And dreams of Death possess my heart. 

N. Lenau 





88 2Dran0lation0 



THE POSTILION 

OVELY was the mild May night, 
Small clouds, silvery, tender, 
Soared above, lured by delight 
In the spring-tide's splendor. 



Slumbering lay field and grove, 
Mortals all departed, 
No one save the moon above 
Watched o'er streets deserted. 

Whispered low the breeze alone, 
Breathed o'er bud and blossom. 
Spring's sweet children every one 
Cradled in her bosom. 

Secretly the brook stole there. 
And the dreams of flowers 
Shed a fragrance rich and rare 
Through the silent hours. 

My postilion was more rude, 
Cracked his long whip proudly, 
And o'er echoing hill and wood 
Blew his post-horn loudly. 



2Dran0latton0 89 



Wood and field in rapid flight, 
Scarcely seen, were banished, 
Like some fleeting dream of night 
Peaceful hamlets vanished. 

Bowered 'mid the pride of May 
Lay a churchyard gleaming, 
Luring wandering thoughts away 
From all idle dreaming. 

Close against the mountain side 
The white wall was leaning 
Whence the God, the Crucified, 
Gazed in solemn meaningf. 

o 

Here my driver checked his speed, 
Sadly gazed, while slowly" 
Reining in each eager steed, 
Toward the emblem holy. 

" Coach and steed alike halt here, 
Pray you, do not wonder, 
I 've a comrade lying there 
In the cold ground yonder; 

" Better fellow ne'er was born. 
Ah, sir, such a pity ! 
None like him upon the horn 
Blew so clear a ditty. 



90 Cran^lattonsi 

"Therefore as he lies at rest, 
I here, halting near him, 
Blow the tune he liked the best, 
For the love I bear him." 

Joyful notes soared clear and shrill 
Toward the churchyard, flying 
To the grave upon the hill 
Where his friend was lying. 

Back the horn's clear tones again 
From the hill came ringing. 
Did the dead postilion then 
Answer to its singing ? 

Onward now o'er hill and plain, 
Slackening rein, we bounded, 
Long within mine ear that strain 
From the hill resounded. 

N. Lenau 



aCranMationfii 



91 




ANTIQUE ART 

a^^ELLENIC Art could never borrow 
Of the Redeemer's light one ray, 
Its authors named not depths of 
sorrow, 
But gladly jested life away. 

Yet pain, whose bonds it could not sunder, 
Hellenic Art can charm to naught, 

And this I hold the greatest wonder 
That The Antique has ever wrought. 

Unknown 



DAY-DAWN 



^rp^^HEN the morn dawns on earth, 
^M/Vi^ Ere the starlight expire 
^^' I stand beside the hearth 



Kindling the fire. 
Bright is the ruddy glare 

That the sparks borrow. 
But I stand gazing there 

Buried in sorrow. 



92 3nran0latton0 

Sudden it comes to me, 

Oh, thou deceiver ! 
All through the night of thee 

I have dreamed ever. 
Tear after tear falls then, 

From mine eyes flowing, 
Here comes the day again, 

Would it were going ! 

E. MORIKE 



THE GIANT'S PLAYTHING 

N Alsace stands Mount Niedeck, 
well known in ancient lore, 
And there the Giant's castle was 
seen in days of yore ; 
It now has gone to ruin, the ground lies waste 

and bare, 
And if you seek for giants you cannot find 
them there. 

The Giant's little daughter once stepped that 

threshold o'er ; 
No one was there to watch her, she played 

before the door. 




2Cran0lation0 93 

Then wandered down the mountain into the 
vale below, 

What might be down below there most curi- 
ous to know. 

With two or three quick paces she left the 
woods behind, 

And soon she found, near Haslach, abodes of 
human-kind. 

Trim fields she sees around her, and towns 
and hamlets rise ; 

A world both new and wondrous appears be- 
fore her eyes. 

And now as at her feet she casts a glance 

around. 
She sees a peasant ploughing before her on 

the ground. 
The tiny creature crawls about and looks so 

very queer, 
And in the sunlight glistens the ploughshare 

bright and clear. 

" Oh, what a pretty plaything ! I '11 take it 

home," cries she ; 
And out she spreads her apron, while resting 

on her knee. 



94 2Dran0lations: 



up in her hands she gathers all that is mov- 
ing there, 

And heaps it in the apron and ties it up with 
care. 

And then (we all know children), with merry 

leap and shout. 
She hastens to the castle, and seeks her father 

out. 
" I 've such a pretty plaything, O father, 

father dear ! 
We 've nothing half so charming upon our 

mountain here." 

The old man sat at table, and drank the cool- 
ing wine ; 

He looks upon her kindly, and says : " O 
daughter mine. 

What 's moving in your apron ? what have 
you brought to me .'* 

You 're leaping with delight, child ; let 's see 
what it may be ?" 

With care she takes her apron, and spreads 

it out, and now 
Lifts up the peasant gently, the horses and 

the plough ; 



2DranMation0 95 

And when upon the table so prettily it 

stands, 
She screams aloud with pleasure, and laughs, 

and claps her hands. 

The old man grows quite serious, and shakes 

his aged head : 
" Oh, that is not a plaything," 't was thus he 

gravely said : 
" Go put it where you found it, go take it 

quickly, go ! 
The peasant is no Plaything ! how could you, 

child, think so ? 

" And now without a murmur, go do as I have 

said, 
For if there were no peasants, what should 

we do for bread ? 
Why, out of peasant sinews our giant race 

was wrought ; 
The peasant is no Plaything ! God keep us 

from the thought ! " 

In Alsace stands Mount Niedeck, well known 

in ancient lore, 
And there the Giant's castle was seen in days 

of yore ; 



96 2Dranj8?lation0 

It now has gone to ruin, the ground Hes waste 

and bare, 
And if you seek for giants you cannot find 

them there. 

Adalbert von Chamisso 

SPRING AND AUTUMN 



EHOLD, the spring again has waked ! 
To greet its darling as it may, 
In garb of lovely flowers decked, 
The earth has donned its best 
array. 



The joyous birds, inspired by love, 
Pour forth rejoicings on the air, 

And while with song each fills the grove 
It builds its nest with busy care. 

And everything lives, loves, and sings. 
And aye to praise the spring is fain. 

The spring, that all this rapture brings, — 
But cold and silent I remain. 

I grant thee, earth, thy wealth of flowers^- 
Sing on, ye birds, without control ; 



2Dran0lation0 97 

Grant me ungrudged my gloomy hours, 
The grief profound that fills my soul. 

For me 'tis autumn, and the blast 

Chill through my fading leaves doth blow. 

The glory of my boughs is past, 
And in the dust my crown lies low. 

Chamisso 



THE THREE SUNS 

OT always this silvery lustre 
Has glittered my curls among, 
A time, now indeed long vanished, 
There was when I too was young. 



And when I see thee, O maiden, 
So young, and so rosy, and gay, 

Then forth from those vanished hours 
Old memories come straightway. 

More fair than thy mother's mother 
No mortal e'er greeted my sight, 

I gazed as on sunshine upon her. 

Enthralled by her young beauty's light. 




98 2Dran0lation0 

And once, — how it thrilled me with rap- 
ture, — 

The pressure of her fair hand ! 
She turned her away to another, 

And I to a foreign land. 

Long after I took my way homeward, 

A wanderer weary and worn, 
When lo ! on my native horizon 

Another bright sun had been born. 

Yes, fairer, O maid, than thy mother 
No mortal e'er greeted my sight, 

I gazed as on sunshine upon her, 

Enthralled by her young beauty's light. 

I trembled when once her smooth forehead 
To me for my kisses she gave ; 

She turned her away to another, 
I sailed far over the wave. 

And now, with its dreams and its sorrows, 

My life has gone, I am old ; 
Returning — in heaven shining 

A third bright sun I behold. 

'T is thou, O fairest of maidens, 
A fairer ne'er greeted my sight, 



I gaze as on sunshine upon thee, 

Enthralled by thy young beauty's light. 

In a kiss that was born of compassion 
Thy soft lips to mine thou hast pressed, 

Thou turn'st to another, — soon under 
The earth, in my grave, I shall rest. 

Chamisso 



MORNING IN SPRING 

IHEN the lambs are lightly springing, 
Roses glow and skylarks soar, 
Saddest hearts must then be singing, 
Must, though fading, bloom once 



He whose life is sad and dreary. 
Wandering on his way forlorn. 
Sings, although his heart is weary, 
Songs like those from cloudland borne. 

He who weeps away the hours. 
Doomed in foreign lands to roam. 
Hears from midst the dewy flowers 
Ringing sweet the songs of home. 




100 2Dran0lations; 

From the waving grain, the river, 
From the heaven's azure sheen 
Float melodious airs forever 
O'er the woods and meadows green. 

Hence, old woes ! afar be driven ! 
Cause this heart no more annoy, 
Come, ye messengers from heaven, 
Dawn of morning, songs of joy ! 

JusTiNus Kerner 



TWO COFFINS 

WO coffins 'neath its arches 
The cathedral safely keeps, 
In one reposes King Othmar, 
In the other the minstrel sleeps. 



The king once sat victorious 
High on his father's throne, 
His hand a sword is grasping, 
His brows are bound by a crown. 

Yet close by the haughty monarch 
The minstrel takes his rest, 
His faithful harp still lying 
Upon his quiet breast. 




2Drans;lation0 loi 

The castles round are crumbling, 
War-cries ring through the land, 
The sword — it never stirreth 
There in the monarch's hand. 

Fragrant and gentle breezes 
Float all the vale along, 
The minstrel's harp is sounding 
In everlasting song. 

J. Kerner 



SPRING 

HO scattered these white kerchiefs 
That o'er the land are seen, 
These white and odorous kerchiefs, 
All edged with tender green ? 



And far above them stretches 
The lofty tent of blue ? 
And under it spreads the carpet 
That covers the field anew ? 

■•Tis He Himself has done it, 
From His kind hand all came, 
The Host of earth and heaven. 
Whose wealth is aye the same. 




[02 SDranglation^ 

'T is He has spread the table 
Within His spacious hall, 
He calls all living and breathing 
To spring's great festival. 

Life streams from every blossom, 
From every shrub and tree ; 
Each flowercup 's a goblet 
That 's foaming fragrantly. 

Ah, list His gracious summons, 
" Come all that creep and fly, 
Those hving on earth's surface, 
And those that wave-rocked lie. 

" And thou my Heavenward pilgrim, 
Here may'st thou sated be, 
Then sink down, calm and happy, 
And kneeling think of Me." 

WiLHELM MiJLLER 




2Dran0latton0 103 



THE BRIDAL NIGHT 

UICK, darting flames throughout the 
night 
O'er heaven's vault have ghmmered, 
And, like some fiery pageant, hght 
Through all the air has shimmered. 

There weighed on all things, dark and drear, 
A sultriness, a dullness, 
The while low thunder drawing near 
Foretold the coming coolness. 

The rain came dropping, warm and mild, 
Like tears, repressed and burning, 
The earth drank deep, but all unstilled 
Was yet her ardent yearning. 

But lo ! — the morning flushes fair. 
So great a wonder showing, — 
Bedecked with blossoms everywhere 
The earth lies bright and glowing. 

A Wonder ! whose has been the might 
These sheaths, — shy buds arraying, — 
Who tore them off in one short night, 
Such loveliness displaying ? 



I04 



2Dran0lation0 



Ah, hush ! ah, hush ! behold and see 
The blossoms' timid blushes, 
The crimson tint that tenderly 
Each fresh and fair cheek flushes ! 

Ah, hush ! and ask that bridegroom bright, 
The Spring, that gallant lover, 
Who came to earth upon this night; 
Their wedding feast was over. 

WiLHELM MiJLLER 




APRIL, 1844 

ES, Germany is Hamlet ! Lo ! 
Upon her ramparts every night 
There stalks in darkness, grim and 
slow. 

Her buried Freedom's steel-clad Sprite, 
Beckons the warder standing there, 

Accosts the shrinking doubter, saying : 
" They 've dropped fell poison in mine ear. 
Draw thou the sword ! no more delaying ! " 



He listens, and his blood runs cold ; 

The horrid truth at length laid bare 
Drives him to be the Avenger bold. — 

But will he ever really dare ? 



K^mmhtionsi 105 

He ponders, dreams, but at his need 

No strengthening comes, but scruples haunt- 
ing, 

Aye for the prompt, courageous deed 
The prompt, courageous soul is wanting. 

It comes from dawdhng overmuch — 

Lounging and reading, — tired to death, — 
Sloth holds him in its iron clutch. 

He 's grown too "fat and scant of breath." 
He spun his learned yarn alway, 

His best of action was but thinking, 
Too long in Wittenberg his stay. 

Employed with lectures — or with drinking. 

And so his resolution fails. 

He madness feigns, thus gaining time, 
Soliloquizes too, and rails, 

And curses "lime" and "spite" in rhyme. 
A pantomime must help him, too ! 

And when he does fight, somewhat later — 
Why, then Polonius Kotzebue 

Receives the stab, and not the traitor. 

And thus he bears — thus dreamily — 
With secret self-contempt his pain. 

He lets them send him o'er the sea 
And sharp in speech comes home again ; 



io6 2Drans(lation0 

Jeers right and left, — his hints are dark, — 
Talks of a "king of shreds and patches," 

But for a deed ? God save the mark ! 
No deed from all this talk he hatches. 

At last he gets the purpose lacked 

And grasps the sword to keep his vow ; 
But ah ! 't is in the final Act, 

And only serves to lay him low. 
With those his hate has overcome, 

Scourging at last their black demerits, 
He dies, — and then with tuck of drum 

Comes Fortinbras, and all inherits. 

Thank God ! we 're not yet come to this, 

The first four Acts have been played through; 
See lest the parallel there is 

Be in the fifth Act borne out too. 
Early and late we hope and pray : 

O Hero, come ! — no more delaying, 
Gird up your loins, act while you may, 

The spectre's urgent call obeying. 

Oh, seize the moment, strike to-day ! 

There still is time, fulfil your part, 
Ere with his poisoned rapier's play 

A French Laertes find your heart. 
Let not a northern army clutch 

Your rightful heritage beforehand, 



2Dran0lation0 107 



Oh, look to it ! I doubt me much 

If this time it will come from Norland. 

Resolve, and be fresh courage born ! 

Enter the lists, make good your boast ! 
Think on the oath that you have sworn ; 

Avenge, avenge your father's ghost ! 
Why ponder thus eternally ? — 

Yet dare I scold ? I, ancient dreamer, 
Am after all " a piece of " thee, 

Thou ever-loitering, lingering Schemer. 

F. Freiligrath 



TO THE MOON 

FLEE away from sunlight glowing 
In thy pale, shadowy world to roam, 
Refreshment streams, a fountain 
flowing, 

Its source — thy light in heaven's dome. 
Thou, o'er the hills thy glory trailing. 
Art to some hidden longing kin, 
The tree-tops with thy splendor veiling, 
Thou hoverest the flowers' Queen. 

Intrusive is day's garish splendor. 
That prying, all things hid would know, 




io8 2Dran0lation0 

The meadows greet thee tearful, tender, 
To thee confide a secret woe. 
And, kissed awake by night- winds' breathing, 
The quiet flowers their leaves unroll, 
Shadows with shadows mingling, wreathing, 
All dream-like thoughts possess the soul. 

Ay, let all clear illumination 

The daylight's flooding brilliance own ; 

A weird, presaging revelation 

Is born of moonht nights alone. 

When 'neath the stars from flower to flower 

The night-moth flits in twilight forth, 

Then can be learned the secret power 

That weaves a spell 'twixt heaven and earth. 

Things firm dissolve and melt, and level 
All strong unyielding barriers seem. 
While all the good as well as evil 
Is but the fabric of a dream, — 
The proud man's scorn, the poor man's wailing, 
Triumphant crime, virtue maligned, — 
And with compassion, full, unfailing, 
The breast is filled for human-kind. 

Rudolph Gottschalk 




2Dran0lations( 109 

REMORSE 
AROSE from my couch in the night, 



I could not rest quiet, and straight- 
way 
The streets with their watchmen I left in my 

flight. 
My footfall was light in the night, in the 

night, 
As I passed through the Gothic arched gate- 
way. 

The millstream rushed past at the foot of the 
height, 

I leaned o'er the bridge and looked down- 
ward ; 

Beneath me the water was plainly in sight 

Plashing soft, plashing light, in the night, in 
the night, 

Ne'er turning, but aye speeding onward. 

And over me wandered, unnumbered and 

bright, 
The stars with their music eternal. 
Among them the moon in the heavens thus 

bedight, 



no 2Dran0lation0 

Lent a mild, chastened light in the night, in 

the night, 
To the far-reaching splendor supernal. 

I looked up on high in the night, in the night, 

Looked down to the waters below me, 

Oh, woe for the days so misspent in their 

flight ! 
Let thy pang be more light in the night, in 

the night, 
Remorse ! whose loud throb would undo me. 
Aug. von Platen 




AUTUMN THOUGHTS 

H, did the cheek alone grow worn 
As fly the years away ! 
But this it is that makes me mourn, 
The heart too must decay. 



And when the pride of youth 's gone by, 
And eyes are bright no more, 
The heart where hopes were warm and high 
Forgets it loved of yore. 



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III 



Although the lips again ma}' dare 
To utter song and jest, 
'T is but the verdure false and fair 
In which a grave is dressed. 

Night comes, — and with the night comes pain, 

Vain are our pleasures all ; 

The heart now yearns for tears again, 

But tears come not at call. 

We are so poor, — so worn our ways, 
And yet we scarce know why, 
We only feel the heart decays. 
Our joy 's a dream gone by. 

Emanuel Geibel 

% 

MORNING 



OFTLY dreams the summer night, 
Where cool founts are flowing 
I have watched the first faint light 
Of the day-star glowing. 



Last night through the evening air, 
After its declining, 
In the west a vapor rare 
Golden still was shining. 




112 SDransflattons; 



Through the night it soared on high 
All the north illuming, 
Tinged with red the eastern sky 
For the morning's coming. 

Dewdrops glisten, pearl on pearl, 
On the grass and flowers, 
Light mists, rising as they curl, 
Tell of sultry hours. 

Deeper down on towers I see 
Brighter light is breaking ; 
In the foliage fitfully 
Songs of joy are waking. 

Lo ! from heaven a lacing streak 
Through the foliage cleaving ; 
Day about my chin and cheek 
Sunny webs is weaving. 

And I see thy tissues bright 
All the world enshrining, 
As my heart thou fillest quite, 
Golden sunlight shining. 

O'er my head commingling roll 
Airs and sounds most tender, 
Hopes and faiths that fill the soul 
Gleam in flaming splendor. 



SDranjSlations? 113 

Full and free, let drink who may, 
Draughts from heaven come streaming, 
For anew the perfect day 
Bright again is beaming ! 

J. G. Fischer 



VISIONS 

N dreams once more I found me 
Beside my father's cot, 
With joy I gazed around me 
O'er each famihar spot. 

The breezes softly sighing, 

Through green leaves whispered low, 

And blossom-flakes were flying 

About my breast and brow. 

I woke, — o'er forests beaming, 
The pale moon dimly shone, 
And 'neath its silver gleaming, 
Behold ! a land unknown. 
I gazed ; from tree-tops flying. 
The snowflakes fluttered hght, 
Snow on the land was lying, — 
With age my hair was white. 

Josef von Eichendorff. 




114 



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A SONG OF WINTER 

ROUND the tree, now leafless, bare, 
The cunning ivy-wreaths are twining, 
They whisper dreams of springtide 
fair, 
When health may come to all now pining. 

Ah, will it come, that springtide fair, 
Once more the tree in verdure wreathing ? 
My heart 's the tree, all leafless, bare, 
The ivy in my songs is breathing. 

Emil Ritterhaus 



MYSTERIOUS HOURS 




HEN autumn brings its harvests. 
When spring fills all the grove, 
Comes many a tender vision, 
My secret soul to move. 



In spring, when all the forest 
Renews its foliage fair, 
And winds toss snowy blossoms 
And fragrance on the air, — 



2Dtan0lation0 115 

In spring I 'd fain be searching 
For what seems lost and gone, 
I know not if 't is violets, 
Or eyes that brightly shone. 

In autumn, when the heavens 
Glow in my beaker bright, 
And to the south the swallow 
First wings his airy flight, — 
In autumn fain I 'd ponder 
On all the days of yore : 
On sunny youth now vanished ? 
On joys that are no more ? 

Georg von Oertzen 



SPRING YEARNINGS 

CARCE blue once more the skies are 

seen 
When forth to fare again I 'm yearn- 



At morn allure the meadows green, 
At eve the stars in heaven burning. 

How fresh they are ! how full of cheer, — 
Far o'er the land the spring winds blowing; 




ii6 SDran^lations 

To heaven arise in evening clear 

The spires and roofs in sunset glowing. 

Within me, longing, trembling, throng 
Mysterious tones by thousands surging, 
As if, borne on the lark's clear song, 
My soul its course would fain be urging. 

Ah, love of roving ! scorn of rest ! 
Elsewhere to wander ever striving. 
Thou only free'st the mortal breast. 
Thou only giv'st the joy of living. 

Karl Elze 



WESTWARD! 

HE day declines, the sun sinks low, 
Forest and hills are gleaming, — 
Through clouds with gorgeous tints 
aglow 

The farewell rays are streaming. 
A yearning wakens as the splendor falls; 
Ah, how it lures and calls : 

Westward ! 




2Dran0lation0 117 



A night of woe and wailing, 
Here, round us closes cold the night, 
The silver moon, the stars' soft light 

Black, scurrying clouds are veiling. 
Oppression, phantom-like the soul appalls, 

And Freedom flees and calls : 

Westward ! 

For Westward lies the sacred sea 

Whereon the ships are tossing, 
While o'er its billows steadily 

The wandering birds are crossing. 
A vision, bright with hope, the heart enthralls; 

Ah, how it lures and calls : 

Westward ! 

Beyond the sea, in that far land. 

Primeval grove and river 
Their Maker's praise from strand to strand 

Chant gloriously forever ; 
And breath of freemen through the free air 
falls ; 
Ah, how it lures and calls : 

Westward ! 

Karl Elze 




ii8 2Dran0lationsi 



BEAUTY 

AR o'er the snowcapped mountain 

plays 
The golden sun of morning, 
The jewels of its brilliant rays 
Its royal brows adorning. 

Ah, world, how fair art thou to sight, 
In early morning beaming. 
When beauty wakes on every height, 
And in each vale lies dreaming. 

To beauty's radiant behest 
The blue depths yield obedience. 
The russet East, the glowing West, 
To her own due allegiance. 

The birds, to bring her greetings sweet, 
Aloft, towards heaven are flying, 
While decked in smiles, low at her feet 
The whole broad earth is lying. 

Sweet girls, fair dames, a beauteous band, 
As priestesses attend her. 
While, warders on her ramparts, stand 
Brave crallants to defend her. 



2Dransflations; 1 19 

Ah, light of beauty ! Thy warm kiss 
A rapturous awe inspires ; 
As in the eyes of love, the bliss 
I find in sunlight's fires. 

Julius von Rodenberg 



BEFORE SUNRISE 




HEN the shades of night are flying 
Ere the East is flushed with red, 

Lo ! the mountain lake is lying 
Grave and gloomy, black and dead. 



Cold, gray rocks lie scattered round it, 
'Midst them rise the hemlocks hoar. 

Dun and marshy meadows bound it, 
Flat and sedgy is its shore. 

Though no bird as yet is singing, 
In my dreams this desert bare 

Is with song already ringing, 
And the sunshine fills the air. 

Adolph Bube 



120 



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EVENING BY THE SEA 




SEA, 'neath evening's light 
Beside thy quiet shore 
My bitter woe takes flight, 
I feel at peace once more. 



The heart forgets again 

The strife with which 't was filled, 

And every cry of pain 

To melody is stilled. 

Scarce is the soul's calm rest 
Stirred by a gentle woe, 
As o'er the sea's smooth breast 
A white-sailed ship may go. 

Alfred Meissner 



THE IMPRISONED ADMIRAL 




^ IS three-and-thirty years to-day 
Since last I saw the main, 
Still stands this tower unchanged 
alway, 
Here ever is my chain ; 



SDran^lationsi 121 

For they have pent the Admiral 

Far from the hght of day, 
Save for a loop-hole in the vi^all 

Whence falls a feeble ray. 
'Tis not the blackness of my days 

That so oppresses me, 
As that on thee I cannot gaze, 

My sacred, deep-blue sea. 

I cannot hear the breakers dash, 

Nor the sea-mew shrieking shrill. 
And if my fetters did not clash 

All would be deathly still. 
They built the tower far from shore, 

Where not a wave is heard, 
No boatswain pipes, no tempests roar, 

No shot the blast e'er stirred. 
'T is not the silence of night around 

That so oppresses me, 
'Tis that I cannot hear thy sound, 

My deep loud-thundering sea ! 

My shrivelling form is bent and old, 
My veins are parched and dry, 

My hands shall ne'er the matchlock hold. 
Or battle-axe swing on high. 

The flag up to the top-mast runs, 
Her broadside full is shown, 



122 %xm&\dition& 

And when my brave lads point the guns 

The devil claims his own. 
Not that I waste in dungeon night 

Now so oppresses me, 
As that on thee I cannot fight, 

My battle-belabored sea ! 

Ha ! up and at them ! — board the wreck ! 

Once more your shot let fall ! 
Ha ! ship to ship and deck to deck ! 

And I the Admiral ! 
To fall in fight thus, hand to hand ! 

Here, sick and worn I lie. 
To languish like a fish on land, 

And like a dog to die ! 
Not wasting, inch by inch, my rest 

Of life so tortures me, 
As not to die on thy broad breast, 

My own oft-conquered sea. 

The vessel mourns, — and sadly flaps 

Her sail, a widowed dame, 
While for a pall the flag enwraps 

The hero's mortal frame; 
In the sea it sinks from its mirrored breast 

That trembles in sacred dread, 
Whilst I deep buried in earth must rest, 

With never a shot o'er my head. 



%mm\Rtiom 123 



Not life forespent in dungeon deep 

Now so oppresses me, 
As that in Thy arms I may not sleep, 

Thou hero's grave — my Sea ! 

MoRiTZ, Graf Strachwitz 



THE SUNLIGHT'S GOLDEN GLOW- 
HAT clothes the earth in light afresh, 
Bids nature's incense rise, 
And makes the simplest verdant field 
A robe of gorgeous dyes ? — 
Turns pebbles into precious stones, 
To pearls the brook's clear flow, 
And brightly lies on all the earth ? — 
The sunlight's golden glow. 

Ah, doubly happy he for whom 
Life's sunlight also glows. 
Who, free to wander where he will, 
Through field and forest goes. 
And as the lark exulting soars, 
Repeats the song below, 
For brightly hes on all the earth 
The sunlight's golden glow. 




124 Cran0lation0 

And though thy day-star sink in gloom, 

Though all within be night, 

Ah, look abroad o'er God's fair realm, 

Where all is gay and bright ; 

And light will shine within that heart 

Which grief has stricken low, 

When brightly lies on all the earth 

The sunlight's golden glow. 

Emil Scherenbkrq 



;s 



SUMMER NIGHT 

HE garish day afar is driven, 
The quiet night around us lies, 
And in the spacious vault of lieaven 
A thousand twinkling stars arise. 



HI 



i 



And where the earth and sky uniting 
Present a misty, cloud-like band. 
The silver moon is mildly lighting 
With gentle ray the dusky land. 

In all the air a blessing hovers, 
It speeds abroad the wide world through, 
Like gentlest kiss of happy lovers. 
When heart to heart makes answer true. 



Cranfiflattons? 125 

In fervent prayer to heaven ascending, 
It rises as on angels' wings, 
And o'er some distant dear one bending 
Sweet cradling songs of love it sings. 

While thus abroad its way 't is winging, 
All fain its messenger would be, 
The birds proclaim it in their singing, 
'T is told by every rustling tree. 
It flashes in the heavens o'er us, 
And on the earth, both near and far, 
The streams begin to gleam before us, 
While star is telling it to star. 

Ah, night, in which such spirits meet us, 
In silver moonlight, summer air ! 
Ah, night, in which such voices greet us. 
Wafted from blossoms everywhere ! 
Ah, summer night, so restful ever ! 
So rich in peace, from heaven above ! 
Though distance two fond hearts may sever. 
Thou wilt unite them both in love. 

Robert Reinick 




126 SDran^latioHfif 



OPENING SPRING 

O ! the Spring is reappearing ! 
Fresh young leaves and sunshine 

bright, 
Every ear her voice is hearing, 
Every eye drinks in her light. 
All is blossoming and blowing. 
Boughs are waving, brooks are flowing, 
And the heart lies open wide, 
Springtime ! Springtime ! Golden tide ! 

From the very rocks outpouring 
Songs of spring fly forth, away 
O'er the streams and meadows soaring, 
O'er the hills with blossoms gay. 
Here at home must I be staying 
Though abroad I 'd fain be straying, 
Yet while arches blue the sky, 
I will sing, sing joyously. 

Whatsoe'er may be denied me, 
Wheresoe'er by fate I 'm thrown, 
Whether weal or woe betide me, 
These, I know, I still may own : — 



2Dran0lationfif 127 

Courage high, a soul unshaken, 
And a heart where songs awaken, 
Love of what to Hfe belongs, 
Golden hfe, poured forth in songs. 

Otto Roquette 




A 






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